


Passover

by QueenRiley



Category: Power Rangers SPD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-29
Updated: 2010-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-17 05:17:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenRiley/pseuds/QueenRiley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Z attends her first Seder with Bridge's family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passover

_**Passover**_  
Title: Passover  
Fandom: Power Rangers SPD  
Rating: G  
Summary: Z attends her first Seder with Bridge's family.  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never have been. Never will be. I don't even have any SPD toys.

Z had been attending Shabbat dinner, with or without Bridge, nearly every Friday for over a year. She was surprised at all she was still learning… learning about Bridge, about his family, and about his culture and religion. So it came as both a surprise and confusing occurrence when Hannah stopped them after their blessings, before they walked home, one Friday night in early spring.

“You’ll come to the Seder on Thursday, won’t you, Elizabeth?” She asked. Bridge sighed beside her, but she had no idea what was being asked of her.

“I’m not sure? What’s the Seder?” Hannah looked hard at her son and Bridge squirmed under what he called her ‘mom look’.

“Passover starts Wednesday night. I always have a family Seder, the holiday meal, on the second night. It’s a big deal. He was supposed to invite you weeks ago.” Z looked behind her at Bridge. He could only shrug, but she could tell he was uncomfortable.

“I don’t know, Mom. The Seder? It’s so… long. And boring. Also, it’s kind of weird. Did I mention the part where it’s boring? Are you sure?” Hannah smacked him on the back of his head and Z suppressed a chuckle. As much as it embarrassed him, she loved to see Bridge and his mom like this, the tight knit little family she had grown to love.

“Family is family. It’s the FAMILY Seder. It wouldn’t be the FAMILY Seder without her.” Z didn’t even give Bridge a chance to argue. Hannah had called her family, and that was all she needed to know.

“I’ll be there.”

  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
Thursday left Z a ball of nerves. Bridge had prepared her as best he could. He told her what Passover was about, the exodus of the Jews from Egypt, finally freed of their slavery. He explained the Seder, what it meant, what would happen, and the timeframe in which it would take place. He explained the rules, keeping kosher, and cleaning the house. She didn’t understand half of it but one thing came through loud and clear. This was no trivial holiday. Passover was a big deal.

She walked to Hannah’s house on her own, Bridge having gone over earlier that day to help clean. She had a bag slung over her shoulder. Bridge had warned her after four glasses of wine she’d likely be too drunk to go much of anywhere and really ought to stay the night, especially since his mother was notorious for taking her Seders well into the wee hours of the morning.

She wasn’t prepared for the crowd. She knew it was a family Seder, but she had no idea family meant ALL the family. She didn’t bother knocking, just walked straight into the living room like always, and stopped short at the group of people. There were four children crowded around the coffee table and two adults, none of whom she knew, and they were all staring at her. Nobody spoke.

“Z! Just in time. You can toss your bag behind the couch.” Bridge came thundering down the stairs and just like that, the air cleared and the kids went back to playing as if nothing had happened. Bridge didn’t even let her get up the stairs before he grabbed her hand and pulled her fully into the living room.

“These are my cousins. David, Rachel, and the twins are Ethan and Ezra. They’re from Pennsylvania and they said they hate it here because it’s too hot, but they come here every year for Bubbe and my mom. They’re really nice, if you can get past the teenager-ness.” The kids barely looked up from the cards they were playing with, the oldest two merely waving hands over their heads. Bridge pulled Z to the couch where she was faced with the two adults from before. They looked bored.

“And this is my Aunt Deborah and Uncle Bernie, mom’s brother.”

“The Uncle Bernie with the mud?” she asked. Bernie sighed.

“I am never going to live that down.” Z politely shook their hands, but was grateful when Bridge ushered her further into the house. She found Hannah puttering about the kitchen, the familiar sight immediately setting her at ease.

“I have to go get dressed.” Bridge whispered in her ear before darting back out of the kitchen. Z immediately went up to Hannah and hugged her tight. She spied a brisket resting in a slow cooker on the counter and more sides than she’d ever seen cluttering up the counter. Hannah squeezed her tight and then motioned to the back of the kitchen, next to the refrigerator, where an elderly woman sat. She had wiry grey hair and skin so wrinkled and thin it looked like tissue paper. She was leaning on a cane and though she was smiling and looked friendly, she held herself in a way that told everyone, unequivocally, that she was in charge here.

“Elizabeth, I’d like you to meet my mother, Zelda. Mom, this is Elizabeth, the young lady Bridge and I have told you so much about.” Z wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but Zelda didn’t stop smiling and instead beckoned her forward, so she took that as a positive sign. Besides, she was here now. There was no going back.

“It’s nice to meet you, Zelda.” Z reached out a hand but Zelda waved her off.

“Bubbe. You call me Bubbe,” she said, her voice shaking slightly with age. Z wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Zelda seemed to sense her nervousness and waved her off again. “My little boychik loves you, even if he doesn’t know it yet. You are here tonight, at the family Seder, and that makes you family. Family calls me Bubbe.” Z blushed right to the roots of her hair, she could feel it.

“Okay, Bubbe,” was all she could say. Bubbe reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently in her own shaking fingers.

“Welcome to the family. May you never regret your decision to join this weird bunch.” Hannah teased, smacking her with a dishtowel as she climbed onto the counter. She swiped a piece of carrot from a plate when Hannah’s back was turned, and then slipped Bubbe a little piece of chocolate covered matzah from the dessert tray.

“All my favourite ladies!” Bridge exclaimed as he burst through the swinging doors into the kitchen. He was wearing pressed black dress slacks and a button down dark blue suit shirt. He even wore a tie, though Z wasn’t entirely sure the Yoda tie was the best choice for such a formal event. Bridge didn’t seem to care, and neither did his mother. He clutched his blue silk kippah in one hand and a hair clip in the other. He spun his mother around the room in a mock dance while she attempted to dump the charoset into a bowl. She shooed him away, but she was smiling as he kissed her cheek. Bridge reached for his grandmother next, kissing her on both cheeks and whispering in her ear. She chuckled at whatever secret he’d decided to share with her. Z hadn’t expected it, but he came to her next. He stepped between her legs, leaning on the counter, and kissed her just as quickly as he had his mother and grandmother.

“ALL my favourite ladies,” he whispered, and she blushed for the second time that night.

“Bridge has been in the Manishewitz early, I think,” his grandmother teased. He laughed heartily and held out the kippah to Z. She couldn’t help but smile as she clipped it to his flyaway hair. So it was an odd family, sure, but she’d never been quite so happy to have it.

  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
Bridge hadn’t lied. In all his preparations, he kept stressing the sheer length of the Seder. Z had expected a long night, but she never could have guessed it would be quite as long as it actually was. She was also incredibly grateful for Bridge having prepared her so well. He’d given her a Haggadah to read through as well as information on the Seder plate, the order in which things were done, and what it all meant. If he hadn’t done that for her, she’d have been completely lost. Never before had she had a meal so involved; each part so deeply symbolic and meaningful.

Every little bit of the night tied in to the story of the exodus, the story of the Jewish slaves gaining their freedom from the Egyptians. Every single thing they did represented something important to the history of Bridge’s people, right down to the untouched cup of wine and the back door left open for Elijah. Z was honoured to have the chance to share it, to be a part in this side of Bridge that the others so rarely saw.

“Next year in Jerusalem,” Hannah had said, ending the Seder. They’d started at sundown and it was past nine before they even made it to the matzah ball soup and brisket. It was nearing two am when Z finally pulled herself away from the dining room table, her head heavy with sleepiness and fuzzy from all the wine. Uncle Bernie and his family had long ago given up and taken a taxi back to the hotel, but Bubbe was still weaving stories of family history and Z could barely stand to leave the table. She collapsed on the already prepared pull out sofa bed and was asleep within minutes. She barely even woke up when, half an hour later, Bridge slipped in behind her.

“Bubbe’s in my bed. Floor’s hard,” he whispered.

“Shut up and go to sleep,” she mumbled, snuggling back against his warmth.

  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
It was Tuesday before Syd couldn’t contain it any longer, and Z was surprised she’d made it that long. They were eating lunch together, the three of them, while Sky was off doing… whatever it was Sky did that took all his time these days. Z had expected her to ask questions about the night spent at Bridge’s mother’s house, or their closeness, or Bridge’s odd fascination with touching her. But no. When Syd finally noticed something about Bridge, it had nothing at all to do with Z herself.

“Bridgey… why is your toast flat?” she asked. Z nearly fell out of her chair laughing. Bridge dropped his buttery matzah on his plate and sighed.

“Stupid Pesach,” he mumbled. It was the only answer Syd got.

  



End file.
